Forever Mine
by Aleissa
Summary: Jonathan/Sebastian is not dead and he returns for Clary. There are several fics with this theme, but please give mine a chance! WARNING! This is a VERY dark fic with rape and incest. Please do not read if this will bother you. M for a reason! Complete
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first MI fic, and I must warn you, it is very dark and disturbing. If you are going to be bothered/offended by brutality, rape, and incest, please read no further. This story is rated M for a reason! It is very sick and twisted, but I think that the story is interesting, if you're up for it. Well, of course I think it's interesting; it's my story! But I hope that at least some of you agree.**

**I know that there are several other "Jonathan is alive, he comes and rapes Clary" stories out there, but I hope you will give mine a shot. I promise that the rest of the story is fairly original, given the others that I have read. This is set after CoG and disregards CoFA. (Not that I don't like CoFA, but I thought of this before I read it.)**

**Right, I'll stop talking now. I figure if you've read this far, you want me to get on with the story!**

**Standard disclaimer: I own nothing. The Mortal Instruments series and the characters contained therein belong to Cassandra Clare. I just do fucked up things with them.**

In her room in the sprawling Institute, Clarissa Fray rolled over in her bed, her hands fisting in her sheets. She arched her back slightly and let out a small moan.

Jonathan watched her, undeniably enticed by the sight of her obvious arousal. But then his expression shifted to a scowl. He knew who she must be dreaming about. The stupid angel boy. Well, he would soon remedy that. Tonight, she was finally going to be his. He would take her and then slowly break her until she submitted to him. Then he would force the angel boy to watch before he slaughtered him.

Jace. The other Jonathan. The real Jonathan sneered. To think that the angel boy had once thought he had a right to _his _name, the name Morgenstern. The thought made his blood boil. The inept shadowhunter had not even managed to kill him properly. Once the dagger was dislodged from his spine, Jonathan's demon blood had healed him. Now, he would avenge his father and ensure that the greatness of the Morgenstern name endured. And he would begin by ensuring that his bloodline was pure. Clarissa. His sister. With her strength and abilities, she had proven that she was worthy of the Morgenstern name. Yes, they would carry on the name together. They were bound by blood; it was only right that they should be together.

Drawing on the dark magic that seethed within him, he sealed the door and window. Not that she would be able to get that far, but best to take precautions against others interrupting them. He also warded the room against sound. He wanted to savor her begging, her screaming, but he did not want others to be alerted.

As silent as a malevolent shadow, he approached her sleeping form. Gently, lovingly, he brushed her coppery hair away from her face.

_Mine,_ he thought with satisfaction, as he gazed down at her delicate beauty.

"Clarissa," he said softly.

She stirred and opened her eyes. She blinked up at him, confused. Then recognition dawned, and fear flooded her features. A bloodcurdling scream ripped from her throat as she tried to throw herself off the bed, to propel herself away from him. But he grasped her shoulders and pinned them to the bed, trapping her beneath him.

His face twisted into a sickening leer. "Hello, sister."

CLARY POV

Clary began to hyperventilate. How was this happening? Jonathan was dead. Jace had killed him. Jace promised her he had killed him.

She tried to kick out at him, but the weight of his body held her down. She fruitlessly tried to pummel him with her fists, but his painful grip on her shoulders rendered her struggles awkward and ineffective.

She shook her head from side to side. This was a dream. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

Clary squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself out of the nightmare.

_Wake up! Wake up wake up wake up wake up!_

"Open your eyes, Clarissa. Look at me," he commanded softly.

She kept her eyes closed tight. "This isn't real. You're dead."

"No, Clarissa. I'm not, I assure you."

"Jace killed you," she whispered.

Jonathan laughed, high and cold. "As if he could," he spat derisively.

She simply shook her head in disbelief, unable to come to terms with the terror washing through her.

Pain suddenly exploded in her head as he dealt her a vicious backhand. She felt the inside of her cheek tear against her teeth and tasted blood.

"There," he hissed. "Now do you believe that I am alive?"

Clary panicked.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god…_

"JACE!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "JACE! IZZY! ALEC! I NEED YOU!"

But her screams were cut off abruptly as he slapped her again, harder this time. Spots of white light danced across her vision as she heard his soft, mocking laughter float down from above her.

"I have warded the room against sound. No one will hear you screams, sister. No one but me."

With that, he wrenched her arms over her head and muttered an incantation in a harsh, demonic tongue. She felt cold metal encircle her wrists and ankles. He released her hands, and she tried to wrench them down to punch the smug expression off his face. Her hands barely moved so much as an inch before they were painfully stopped short. She twisted her head so that she could look above her.

Iron manacles were enclosed around her wrists, attached to her wrought iron headboard by short chains. She tried to move her legs as well, but the jangle of chains told her that they were secured as well.

Clary swallowed her rising panic and forced a question past the lump in her throat.

"What do you want with me, Jonathan?" To her chagrin, her voice was thin and high, almost a whine.

"Why, Clarissa, I would think that was obvious. I want _you._"

She could see something dark and sick in his eyes. Her stomach twisted as she realized that it was lust. And possessiveness.

"I will never be yours," she hissed angrily. "I belong to Jace, and he will kill you when he finds you."

Her air was cut off abruptly as he seized her throat. His face was only inches away from hers, handsome features twisted into a snarl.

"I long for him to try. When he comes for me, I will kill the pathetic angel boy. But not before he sees you succumb to me. I will destroy his soul before I mutilate his body."

He released her neck and she sucked in oxygen, the cool air burning its way down her abused throat. As she struggled to regain her breath, she became conscious of a strange ripping sound.

Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she looked down to see that Jonathan had ripped her tank top from her body, leaving her breasts exposed. Goosebumps pebbled on her flesh as a chill from more than just the cool air sank into her.

"Jonathan," she began shakily, trying to reason with him. "Jonathan, I'm your sister. This is wrong."

He ignored her, ripping away her pajama bottoms and leaving her in nothing but her cotton underwear.

"Jonathan, please!" She was desperate now, and tears were streaming down her face in earnest.

He reached up and gripped her breasts with bruising force.

"Nothing has ever been more right, Clarissa," he said calmly. "We are Morgensterns. We are more than simply human or shadowhunter. We are special, strong. And we are meant to be together."

He twisted her nipples painfully.

"No!" She sobbed. How could this be happening? She could not allow this to happen! She struggled against her restraints, wildly jerking at the metal. But the manacles only cut into her skin, drawing lines of crimson around her wrists and ankles.

She felt the pain but was unable to stop her panicked struggles as he ripped away her panties, leaving her completely bare to him.

He stared down at her for a moment as though mesmerized. She felt as though toxic ooze was sliding over her body, burning her everywhere his eyes touched.

He ran a gentle finger down between her breasts, trialing it down her chest to her navel.

"So beautiful," he whispered. "And all mine."

"_Please_, Jonathan!" She sobbed. "Please, don't do this!"

Heedless of her pleas, he settled his body over hers. She could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh. He reverently cupped her face in his hands.

"You will be mine, Clarissa. You will see. You _will_ couple with me willingly, one day. But for now, I must take what is mine."

Bile rose in the back of her throat. Her body was shuddering uncontrollably.

She watched in helpless horror as he freed his cock from his trousers and pressed it against her entrance. His cold, black eyes boring into hers, he drove into her in one merciless thrust. She felt a painful ripping as he tore through her hymen. His grunt of pleasure was drowned by her scream.

No. _No!_ She had been saving herself for Jace, had been waiting for the right moment. Now Jonathan had taken that from her, stolen her virginity.

And oh, god the pain! It had to stop. It had to. Surely she would die if it went on.

"JACE!" She screamed out for him.

But Jonathan's fingers viciously closed around her throat once again, cutting off her cries.

"You will learn never to speak his name in my presence again!" He snarled. "Never!"

He thrust into her harder, and she could feel the warmth of her blood as it ran down her thighs. But he continued to grip her throat, depriving her of oxygen. Spots began to dance before her eyes.

_Good_, she thought. _Maybe I'll die. Maybe he'll kill me._ Anything to end this torment.

She was dimly aware of more words uttered in demonish. She felt as though something died inside of her; as though part of her soul was gone. It belonged to Jonathan now.

Just as her eyes began to flutter closed, she heard him cry out in satisfaction. His hot seed burned her core like a brand. But then the world was mercifully black. Her last thought was of Jace, and how she was glad that she would never have to face him after what had just happened to her.

**Soooo what do you think? There is more darkness to come, but nothing so graphic (I think), so if you think you can handle it, please review and I will continue writing if you like it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here is chapter two. Thanks so much to everyone who has favorited/added this to their story alerts! And of course to everyone who has reviewed! I have written one story before in the seldom-trafficked Immortals After Dark section, but I got very little feedback. I can't say how encouraging your response has been! Thank you!**

Clary awoke to a world of pain. Her face throbbed where Jonathan had struck her; her breaths burned into her lungs as they were forced down her abused throat; but worst of all was the raw, wrenching agony between her thighs.

Sickening images chased each other around her mind in a nauseating, relentless loop. Jonathan pinning her down, chaining her to the bed, making insane, vile claims about how they were meant to be together.

Her stomach lurched and she turned her head to retch over the side of her bed. Some part of her mind processed that her arms and legs were now free, but the thought was quickly overwhelmed by the memory of her helplessness as she had yanked against the chains that had restrained her to her bed. She allowed her disgust to wash over her in a searing wave as she retched and sobbed.

_Oh, god. Oh, god! He _raped_ me! My brother. Oh god oh god oh god oh god….._

The words repeated like a panicked litany in her head. She shook her head, desperate to clear the sickening images of Jonathan violating her from her mind. She could still feel the way that his gaze had slowly roved over her most intimate parts, making her feel covered in filth.

Yes, she was filthy. Dirty. Defiled.

She had to get clean, had to rid herself of his taint. Her determination to wash Jonathan's evil from her body gave her the strength to stand. But no sooner had she taken two steps toward her bathroom when a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her body lurched to the side, and she tried to catch herself on her bedside table. But she was too weak to stand; she had lost too much blood. Her sheets were soaked in it.

As she fell, her arm collided with the lamp on her bedside table. Clary was dimly aware of the sound of it shattering as her abused body hit the floor.

She did not feel the pain of the impact, and after a few moments she abandoned the idea of trying to stand. Her exhaustion was too acute for her to bother. Her mind began to shut down, leaving her floating in a merciful place between consciousness and unconsciousness, where no thoughts of Jonathan existed. All she noticed was the pleasant feel of the cool floorboards against her bruised flesh, the interesting patterns in the wood beneath her.

But then her mind registered something else, something far less welcome. There was a soft, insistent knocking at her door. Someone was calling her name.

"Clary? Are you alright? I thought I heard something break," came a soft, feminine voice from just outside her door.

Clary remained silent. Maybe if she was quiet, Isabelle would go away. She didn't want to see anyone; she didn't want anyone to see her.

"Clary?" Her tone was more insistent now, her knocking louder.

_Go away. Please, go away._

Clary squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will Izzy to leave her alone. But to her dismay, she heard the click of the turning doorknob, the creak of the hinges as Izzy eased the door open.

Her stomach dropped as she heard Isabelle's gasp of shock. She kept her eyes resolutely closed, unwilling to see the pity on her friend's face.

She fought back a groan as light filtered through her closed eyelids, clearly revealing the extent of her injuries.

"Clary!" Isabelle cried.

Her friend's footsteps quickly approached her. Izzy touched a gentle hand to her shoulder and carefully rolled her over so that she was lying on her back.

"Clary! Oh, god! What happened to you?"

She kept her eyes closed, refusing to respond. If only she could lie here forever, sink into the floor and disappear.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! ALEC! JACE!" She screamed for her brothers.

_Jace?_ Clary thought._ JACE!_

No! No, he couldn't see her like this! She could never look into his eyes again if he knew what had happened, what she had allowed Jonathan to do to her. He would never look at her the same way again, never love her the same way again. Oh, god, what if he didn't love her at all after this? No, he couldn't. He would only see the taint left on her skin, left within her, from Jonathan. She could not allow him to come in here and see her like this!

Her eyes snapped open, and she reached up wildly to grab her friend's t-shirt. She speared Isabelle with a panicked gaze.

"No!" She cried. "Not Jace! Not Jace! Don't let him in. Don't let him-"

But her words were cut off by a strangled sob as she heard his footfalls approaching her room.

x JACE POV x

Jace stopped short at the open doorway to Clary's room. He sucked in a stunned breath as he took in her bruised and naked form lying on the floor, her small hand fisted in Izzy's t-shirt.

Forcing himself to swallow down his fear, he approached the girl he loved. She was whimpering softly, shaking on the floor. She wouldn't meet his eyes. What had happened to her? What had done this?

He quickly stripped off his t-shirt and gingerly knelt beside Clary to cover her nakedness. She flinched away from him as his fingers brushed her skin. He jerked his hands away as though he had been burned. What could she have possibly been through that would make her react to him this way? How could she possibly be afraid of _him_?

Grabbing Clary's stele from her dresser, he bent over her to draw an _iratze_ on her arm. It was only then that he paused to take an inventory of her injuries.

Her delicate face was already showing signs of bruising, and ugly, purple marks marred her throat. There were clearly defined bruises in the shapes of long fingers on her upper arms. Her wrists and ankles were oozing blood where they had been rubbed raw as though by cruel restraints. Clearly, she had tried to fight off her attacker.

And her legs were bloody, very bloody.

His eyes followed the blood from her still form to the dark drops which had stained the floor as she moved from her bed. Then his gaze fell on the gory, crimson mess that had pooled on the lower half of her sheets. At first, he was mildly disgusted, thinking that Clary had started her period. But he quickly dismissed the thought as irrational, an attempt by his mind to deny the truth of what had happened to the girl he loved more than anything else in the world.

Unable to contain his rage and anguish, he threw back his head and let out a furious roar.

His vision was filming over with red, his fury was so acute. He would rip out the throat of whoever had done this. After slowly flaying his skin from his body. After cutting off his balls with a dull blade. After-

But his furious thoughts were penetrated by the wrenching sound of Clary's high, keening cries.

He was upsetting her. There would be time for revenge later. After he discovered who had done this to her. Calling upon all of his years of discipline at masking his emotions, he shoved down the wrath that was seething inside of him and attempted to school his features into blankness.

"Shhh, Clary, it's alright now. We'll help you heal." He reached out to cup her face, but she cringed away from him. He looked at Izzy helplessly, and she gazed back at him with pity in her eyes.

"Alec," she said softly to her brother, who was standing in the doorway in shocked silence. "Call Magnus, please."

Alec visibly shook himself. "Right," he said shakily. "Right." He pulled his cell out of his pocket and retreated into the hallway.

Jace tried to catch Clary's gaze, to reassure her that he was there for her, but her eyes flitted frantically around the room, looking at everything but his and Izzy's faces. Then her gaze fell on something and remained fixed. Her eyes glazed over and her expression tightened.

Jace followed the direction of her gaze, his eyes focusing immediately on her blood-soaked bed. Rage bubbled up inside him once again, searing and unstoppable.

"Who did this, Clary?" He growled. "Who?"

Clary squeezed her eyes shut and began to shake violently.

"Jace," Isabelle said his name in a low, warning tone.

But he ignored her.

"Who?" He demanded.

Clary's breaths came faster, were turning more shallow as panic overwhelmed her. But Jace couldn't stop the riptide of fury that raged through him.

"Who, Clary? Tell me!"

"I CAN'T!" She cried. "I can't I can't I can't I can't…"

Her words were choked off as she began to hyperventilate.

Izzy shot an accusatory look at Jace.

"It's okay, Clary," she said soothingly. "You don't have to talk right now. Just breathe. Breathe."

But Clary's breath continued to come in short, shallow gasps, until her throat became so constricted that she wasn't drawing in air at all.

Glaring at Jace, Isabelle grabbed the stele out of his hand and drew a rune on Clary's arm that would make her sleep. Slowly, slowly, her body relaxed and her breathing returned to normal.

But the fury was still seething within Jace. He had to find some outlet for his rage and anguish. He turned abruptly and punched the wall with such force that the wood splintered beneath his fist. He punched over and over again, focusing on the pain in his hand in order to distract himself from the pain in his soul.

**So yeah, this is a very angsty story. But then again, so is MI on the whole, so I hope that y'all don't get fed up with it. Much more angst to come! (There's a reason that I put "angst" as one of the story categories haha.)**

**Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we go! Chapter three. I had a hard time structuring this, and I think that the layout might be a bit confusing. But it's supposed to take you a bit to figure out what is going on, so I hope that it's a nice (but understandable!) surprise when you do figure it out. I hope you like it! And let me know if it's too unclear!**

Jace sat by Clary's bed, watching her sleep. Well, it was his bed, really. She had been moved there while Magnus healed her. And made sure that she wasn't pregnant.

Jace's stomach twisted and his hands clenched at the thought. He ignored the pain that shot up his arm from the movement; he had managed to fracture his knucklebones when he had punched the wall in Clary's room. But he had refused to allow Magnus to heal it. He hadn't even let Alec or Izzy draw an _iratze_ on him. No, he deserved pain far worse than this. After what he had allowed to happen to Clary, he deserved to die in agony. How could he have failed the girl he loved? He was so arrogant, so confident in his abilities. And yet what good had they done him? What good had they done _her_? He had slept not three rooms away from her while she had been beaten and…

He forced himself to think the word: _raped_. Clary had been raped. And he had done nothing. Nothing!

He buried his face in his hands.

The only thing he could do now was exact revenge upon whoever had done this to her. Then he could punish himself for his failure. Then he could die; he didn't care.

But only after the one who had hurt her had suffered so badly that he begged for death. It was the only way Jace had forced himself to sit here in inaction, waiting for Clary to awaken: he envisioned the most agonizing tortures for Clary's attacker, refining his plans for when he caught the bastard.

There was nothing else to do until Clary woke up, until she told him who had attacked her.

His lips pressed into a hard line. She _would_ tell him who it was.

His black thoughts dissipated like smoke as relief washed through him when Clary opened her eyes. He longed to reach out and touch her, to hold her hand. But given the way that she had reacted to his touch before, how she had cringed away from him, he did not want to frighten her. So he kept his hands fisted in his lap as he watched her, waiting for her to make the first move.

She blinked up at the ceiling a few times and then, as though recognizing his presence, turned her gaze on him.

He made an attempt to smile at her weakly.

Her eyes widened in recognition. But rather than the usual light that he saw behind them, there was only horror.

He jerked back in surprise when she let out a bloodcurdling scream and jumped up wildly. He sat frozen for a moment as she bolted for the door.

But no. He couldn't let her out of his sight. Acting instinctively, he leapt up and caught her around the waist. With surprising precision for someone so panicked, Clary landed a solid punch on his jaw. Jace momentarily slackened his grip on her, and she wriggled free of him.

He knew that he couldn't let her leave the room. No one else was at the Institute. If Izzy were here, she might know how to calm Clary, but she had gone with Alec and Magnus to try to track Clary's attacker magically. And Jace wasn't about to let her out of his sight if he was the only one here to protect her.

But he couldn't bring himself to harm her either, and it seemed that she was going to put up quite a fight. He was simply going to have to restrain her until the others got back.

He had reached this decision within moments of Clary escaping him. Hating himself for frightening her further, he launched himself at her again, cutting her off in her mad dash for the door.

She howled in frustration as he pushed her up against the wall, trapping her body with his. But he was careful not to grip her wrists; he did not want to bring back memories of how she had been brutally restrained to her bed. So he resolutely stood and took the punches she dealt him, absorbing the shock of each one while holding his body against hers, his hands braced on the wall on either side of her.

"Clary," he tried to keep his voice as level as possible. "Clary, calm down. Stop fighting me."

"_Never!_" She hissed, the terror in her expression giving way to fury. "Do you honestly think-" she punctuated her words with another punch- "that I would allow you to touch me again?" Another punch. "After what you did? I will die before I let you violate me again!" Another punch.

Jace nearly stepped back from her in shock, but he stood his ground.

"Clary, who do you think you're talking to?"

She shrieked in fury.

x CLARY POV x

"Clary, who do you think you're talking to?" Jonathan asked her levelly, coldly. His black eyes bored into hers.

She shrieked in fury and dealt him another vicious blow, to his stomach this time. But she might as well be punching a brick wall for all the effect it had on him. He continued to stare at her, his expression reproving.

"Fuck you," she spat out. "I know very well who you are, you bastard, and I will talk to you however I want! You think that you _own_ me now, after what you did to me? You _disgust_ me!"

She could feel her own knuckles bruising as they made contact with every part of him she could reach, but to no avail. But she would not stop fighting. She would rather die.

"Clary, you're confused. I didn't hurt you. I could never hurt you." He smirked at her, his eyes dancing with amused malevolence.

"You didn't _hurt_ me?" She shrieked. "You strangled me and left me for dead. You _defiled_ me. I'm your _sister_, you sick fuck!"

He suddenly stepped back half a step, giving her room to maneuver. She knew that she could never make it to the door in time to escape him, would never make it out of the Institute. But she had meant what she had said before: she would rather die than be claimed by him again.

She lunged to her right and seized a long, sharp letter opener that was lying on Jace's desk. Jonathan's expression twisted into a wicked leer as she drove the makeshift blade towards his heart. She knew that he was fast enough to avoid the blow, but she was not going down without a fight.

Oddly, he hesitated. It was only at the last moment that he tried to dodge the blow. But by then it was too late. A mad grin broke out on Clary's face as the blade struck, tearing into his heavily muscled chest.

And then he was falling away from her, sinking to his knees. But something was wrong. His black eyes were confused, stricken. No. Not black eyes. Amber. His appearance was shifting like a reflection in rippling water. His pale skin turned tan, his white-blonde hair turned golden.

Clary looked down at the blade protruding from Jace's chest in horror. She heard Jonathan's soft, cold laughter echoing in her head.

**Did that make sense? I hope so! Basically, Jonathan is fucking with Clary's mind. Let me know if you liked it, please! Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again to everyone who has favorited and reviewed! I really appreciate it! Chapter four, here we go!**

"Jace!" Clary cried as she stared down at the silvery hilt of her makeshift dagger. It glinted sickeningly in the late afternoon light that filtered through the window. Blood bloomed from around the wound, rapidly staining his white t-shirt. Her stomach lurched. Jonathan's laughter was still ringing in her head.

She dropped to her knees and put a supporting arm around his back, helping lower him gently to the floor. She hastily blinked away the tears that were clouding her vision.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." Clary babbled. "I thought you were-" She stopped herself abruptly. No. She could not let Jace know about Jonathan, couldn't let him know what he had done to her. If Jace found out, he would try to find Jonathan, to kill him. But that would only result in Jace's death; Jonathan, it seemed, could not die. He would kill Jace.

_Unless I've already killed him! _She thought hysterically as she watched blood bubble from Jace's lips.

_No, sister. He won't die. You can save him. I know you can. Use your gift._ Jonathan's soft voice was still in her head.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screamed, not realizing that she vocalized her furious, panicked thought.

Jace stared up at her, a mixture of puzzlement and concern in his amber eyes. He opened his mouth as though to speak to her, but only a sick, rattling, choking sound issued forth as more blood dripped from between his lips.

I_ will be the one to end him, not you, Clarissa!_ Jonathan's voice was laced with anger and impatience. _Heal him. NOW!_

_I _hate_ you_, she thought venomously as she fumbled for the stele in Jace's pocket.

Once she had it grasped firmly in her right hand, she took a deep breath and willed the rune to come to her. Something more powerful than an _iratze_. As she looked down at Jace, she let her love for him flow through her. She momentarily closed her eyes and pictured him healed, whole and perfect.

The rune appeared in her mind's eye, a concentric series of knots within knots which spoke of strength and renewed vitality.

Keeping the image fixed in her mind, she looked down at Jace's wound. Her stomach turned at the sight of what she had done, but there was no time for squeamishness; she knew she would have to remove the blade before drawing the rune. She hated the thought of the renewed pain she would cause him by withdrawing it, but she forced herself to grip the blade's handle. In one swift movement, she wrenched her arm back, pulling the blade from his chest.

Jace let out a strangled cry. His eyes rolled back in his head as he finally succumbed to the pain and blood loss.

Trying to ignore the horror of the fresh blood that poured from the open wound, she forced her shaking hand to steady as she touched the tip of the stele to Jace's chest. She began drawing the circle of knots around the gory gash as quickly and as carefully as she could. When she had finished, she drew back her hand and watched the wound intently.

Her eyes widened in amazement as the blood stopped steadily pumping out of his body. Slowly, slowly, his skin closed over the wound, forming a scab that made the injury look days old. His ragged, bubbling gasps slowly quieted as his breathing returned to its normal rhythm.

Clary let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and sat back on her heels.

_Well done, sister._ She could hear the smile in his voice, his tone tinged with pride.

_Get out of my head!_ She shrieked at him, threading her fingers through her hair and yanking at the coppery locks as though she could rip him out of her head along with them.

Mocking laughter. Fading….

Silence.

Clary let out a sigh of relief as she felt his malevolence recede from her consciousness. But in the back of her mind she could still feel him: a dark, insidious presence.

Biting her lip, she looked down at Jace's now-sleeping form.

_I can't let Jonathan hurt him. I can't let _myself_ hurt him._

She knew that they must be alone at the Institute; otherwise, someone would have already come bursting in at the sound of their fighting. Yes, this was probably her best chance to get away, to protect all of them from herself. If Jonathan could make her see things, could manipulate her like that, she was a danger to everyone she loved.

_I'll kill Jonathan myself. I'll kill him or die trying._

And truthfully, her life did not matter all that much to her anymore. Not if this was to be her life, a life as Jonathan's puppet, his plaything. No, better to face death than a life like this.

Clary focused on the darkness in the back of her mind. Yes, she could sense him. She knew that she would be able to find him.

She bent down and touched her lips to Jace's cheek in a feather-light kiss.

"Goodbye," she whispered. "I love you."

Resolutely, she forced herself to stand, for her feet to carry her away from him. Without looking back, she left the room and headed for the armory. She would need as many weapons as she could carry if she was going to face Jonathan.

A mad giggle escaped her.

She knew she did not stand a chance against her brother. If Jace hadn't been able to kill him, how could she possibly hope to succeed?

Clary knew that when she next laid eyes on Jonathan, his face would likely be the last thing she would ever see.

**I hope you liked it! That was a bit exhibition-y, but there is more angst and action coming soon! Also, I know it was a bit shorter than the others, so I'll try to get the next juicy one written quickly!**

**Please please please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! Now, time for a bit more Jonathan and for Clary to kick some ass. Well, for a little while, at least…**

In the dilapidated abandoned warehouse where he had decided to settle himself in New York, Jonathan paced in a circle around an enormous broadsword. Maellartach. The soul-sword. He had retrieved it from the depths of Lake Lyn where his father had cast it to summon the Angel. Now he was gathering the dark powers within him, chanting in a harsh, demonic tongue. He would summon a demon army as vast as the one his father had commanded. Then, with Clarissa by his side, he would conquer this world. With their extraordinary powers, with a hoard of demons at his command, the shadowhunters would be powerless against him. His father had wanted to cleanse the race of shadowhunters, but Jonathan knew better: that race was weak, useless. It would be the Morgenstern progeny that ruled the world. The pure Morgenstern progeny.

He knew that his sister was coming to him; he could feel her approach. When he had released his seed into her, he had used his magic to take a piece of her soul into himself. She was irrevocably tied to him now; she could not deny him. A shudder of pleasure ran through him at the memory of taking her, of subverting her will to his.

The only thing that stood between them now was her love for the angel boy. But that would soon be destroyed. Jonathan had devised a plan to fix her, to ensure that she loved him. After coupling with her, he knew that he would no longer be satisfied simply by her submission. He wanted all of her, he wanted her love and undying devotion. He thought of how she had cried out the angel boy's name while he was buried inside of her. His black blood boiled in his veins at the memory. No, not only would he kill the angel boy; that would not be enough. He had to bind Clarissa to him, to ensure that she would never desire the weakling shadowhunter ever again.

He finished his incantation and stopped circling the sword. Maellartach glinted darkly in the dim light as he bent to lift it. He could feel the power seething in the sword, waiting for him to grasp it. He reached out for it with his mind, bending it to his will. He would begin by summoning his demon army. Then he would take care of Clarissa. He could feel that she would be joining him soon. He smiled.

x CLARY POV x

Clary forced herself to keep her breathing slow and even as she carefully made her way through the maze of old warehouses. She was armed to the teeth, but she knew that there was little she could do against Jonathan, no matter how many weapons she possessed.

No. She couldn't let herself think like that. She was here to kill him. And if she couldn't do that, then she had come here to die. She would not live her life chained to her evil brother, a slave to his will and his sexual plaything. Her stomach clenched at the thought. No, better to die than face that fate. But she was not going to give up without a fight. If there was even a fraction of a chance that she could take him out, to save the ones she loved from his twisted power, then she would have to try to stand against him.

She tensed as she caught a movement in the shadows out of the corner of her eye. Swiftly drawing her twin swords, she turned towards it. Yes, there. Something darker than the shadow lurked by the warehouse wall.

"Gabriel," she whispered. Her seraph blades blazed to life, their light revealing the demon crouched before her.

It momentarily cringed from the light. She could see that it was huge, shaped like a bear, a rabid bear with acid green poison dripping from its elongated fangs. It quickly adjusted to the light and launched itself at her. But its size made it clumsy, and Clary had gotten very fast in her months of training since Valentine's defeat. She dodged its sharp claws, ducking under its outstretched arm to drive her blades into its chest. It howled and began folding in on itself as it was forced back to the dimension from whence it had come.

But no sooner had it begun to fall than Clary heard growling behind her. She turned just in time to see another demon jump at her. She tried to leap back, but its claws raked across her arm, leaving deep gouges. Ignoring the searing pain, she lunged forward, hacking off its head with one powerful blow.

More growls sounded around her, and she looked up to see a hoard of demons advancing on her from all sides. She swallowed hard. It seemed she was not going to get the chance to try to kill Jonathan. But at least she would fulfill Plan B: her own death. Gripping her blades tightly, she pushed back all of her thoughts and fell into fighting mode, where all that existed were her body and her blades. And the demons closing in on her.

She ducked and parried, delivering blow after fatal blow, and still the tide of demons surged toward her. The circle of destruction around her shrank smaller and smaller as fatigue slowed her movements. She was overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Soon, they were close enough to land blows of their own, sharp claws tearing at her flesh.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp, stinging pain in the back of her right shoulder. She wrenched her body forward to dislodge whatever had struck her, spinning around to face the demon that had injured her. It looked like a huge scorpion, with eight eyes like a spider. The spike at the end of its raised tail dripped with venom. And her blood. She lunged forward and hacked off its tail. It scuttled back away from her, hissing in pain. But there was no time to pursue it; other demons still surrounded her.

She whirled, holding her swords outstretched in front of her, but the movement was awkward and she stumbled. Quickly righting herself, she slashed at the demon directly in front of her. Oddly, it didn't move to protect itself. It stood perfectly still as her blade bit into it, making black blood gush from its chest.

Looking around her, she saw that all of the demons stood still and silent. She paused, puzzled for a moment. But then she shook herself. It didn't matter if they weren't fighting back; they were still demons and needed to be banished from the world of humans. She advanced on a hulking, reptilian demon.

But her steps were awkward and unsteady. Her limbs were tingling oddly. Her knees folded beneath her as she lost control of her legs. She was going numb.

Panic flooded through her, and she desperately struggled to stand. But her swords dropped from her limp fingers, clattering as they hit the ground. Her body slumped forward, and she could not even extend her hands to prevent her head from cracking against the pavement as she went down. Stars burst before her eyes.

"Clarissa." Her stomach dropped as she heard the smile in his dreaded voice. "I'm so glad you decided to join me. I hope my pets didn't damage you too badly."

Desperately, she tried to will herself to reach out and pick up her swords, to fight him. But her body would not so much as twitch.

She felt his arms encircle her, lifting her up to cradle her body against his heavily muscled chest. Dread and disgust filled her as she looked up at him.

"Put me down!" She tried to hiss at him, but her lips would not move, and only a strangled sound escaped her.

He smirked down at her. "Don't worry, dear sister. The paralysis from a v_rak_ demon's poison is only temporary."

He stroked her face tenderly, grazing his thumb over a cut on her cheek. "And I will heal your other wounds."

His black eyes glinted madly as he stared down at her.

"You'll be all better soon. Then the real fun can begin."

**So that's all for now. PLEASE review and let me know if you liked it!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Yet another disturbing chapter. Perhaps the most unsettling one since Chapter 1. Here goes…**

Clary could not move her limbs, but she could still feel Jonathan's calloused fingers brushing against her skin as he restrained her to the old hospital bed. He buckled leather straps around her wrists and ankles, securing them to the guard rails on either side of the mattress. The upper half of the bed had been propped up so that Clary was almost in a sitting position. Although she could not turn her head to look around, she could see that she was inside an old, dimly lit warehouse. But it was still bright enough for her to clearly make out the hundreds of demons which milled around the room, pacing back and forth until they all blurred together to form an undulating, malevolent black sea.

At first she had wondered at the fact that they were not attacking. Jonathan might be part-demon, but that would matter little to the vast horde which was crammed in the warehouse, the demons clearly restless and disgruntled. It was then that Clary had noticed the enormous broadsword buckled around her brother's waist. Maellartach. If she could move, she would have shivered. If Jonathan controlled that army of demons, there was no hope for her friends, for Jace, Izzy, and Alec; there was no hope for the world of humans.

Tears of frustration leaked from the corners of her eyes as she realized that she could do nothing to stop him. She had failed in her mission: she had not killed Jonathan, and now she was trapped in his clutches once again rather than wrapped in the dark embrace of death.

Jonathan reached forward and gently caught one of her tears on his index finger. Staring at the bead of moisture as though fascinated, he slowly brought it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the mark of her misery.

He looked at her musingly. "You do look so beautiful when you cry. Especially when you cry for me."

He reached out a hand and roughly grabbed her breast, squeezing with bruising force. Clary was filled with rage. Her tears were not _for_ him; they were _because _of him. Focusing on her anger, she willed herself to speak.

"Not…for…you," she ground out. "For…them…"

His pleased expression was replaced by a mask of anger. She felt cold metal press against her lips as a dagger appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"Shhh, sister," he chided, sliding the tip of the blade from her lips down the base of her throat. His face softened. "I know now that it is not your fault that you do not love me. You are confused. You have been blinded by the angel's blood in you; blinded to your own potential, blinded to my greatness. It is the angel blood that you share with Jace which makes you think you love him. But I will remedy that."

Jagged shards of ice began to form in the pit of Clary's stomach as he smiled down at her, one hand pressing the dagger to her throat, the other softly stroking her hair.

"Demon blood will bring out your true nature. My blood." He glanced to his left, his gaze falling on a hanging medical plastic bag attached to an IV drip. It was filled with a deep burgundy liquid, darker than any human blood should be.

"No!" The word was forced from Clary's lips in a strangled cry. "Don't… Jonathan, please…" Clary's terror was so acute that her body began trembling, despite the fact that the _vrak_'s poison was still affecting her.

"Quiet, now, Clarissa," he ordered calmly, pressing the dagger into her skin. She felt warm blood bead on her throat. "It will all be over in a few hours. Then you will no longer care for them, for the pathetic humans, the weak shadowhunters. You will recognize that you are better than them. That _we_ are better than them. And together we will conquer this world."

He brought the blade down in one swift motion. For a moment, Clary's heart lifted, thinking that he was going to stab her, kill her. But instead of pain, she felt only cool air on her skin as he tore away her shirt.

She screamed.

Oh, god, it was just like before. He would rip off her clothes and violate her, and there would be nothing she could do to stop him.

"Do not fret, sister." Jonathan continued to cut away her clothes as he spoke to her calmly. "I am not going to claim you again. Not yet. I will not take you again until you submit willingly, until you revel in my touch. Until you love me. And you _will_ love me, Clarissa. We are bound by blood, but the angel's touch on you separates us. Once you fully share my blood, we will be joined irrevocably, and you will rejoice at serving me." His eyes took on a maniacal gleam as he stripped away her panties.

Revulsion ran through her in a hot wave as he stared down at her naked form with hunger in his eyes. He gently traced his fingers under the curve of her breasts.

"But not yet," he whispered, as though to himself. "Not until I erase the angel boy from your mind. And then there will only be me. Only me…" He trailed off, a dreamy look in his onyx eyes.

Clary was too horrified to form words. A despairing sob escaped her as she tried desperately to yank against her restraints. But she could still hardly move her limbs, and even if she had her full strength she would have been unable to pull herself free.

He stood up abruptly, walking around to the other side of the bed. He wheeled over another hanging bag attached to an IV, only this one was empty.

"We will have to drain out the angel blood in order for the transformation to work," he explained calmly, as though he were not about to utterly destroy her soul.

He gripped her forearm and deftly inserted a hollow needle into a vein at the inside of her elbow. She felt a sickening tugging sensation as her blood flowed out of her and into the IV line in a crimson stream.

She ripped her eyes away from the horrific sight to see Jonathan had moved back to the other side of the bed. He was holding down her right forearm now; the other needle shone as it descended toward her elbow.

"No! Please, Jonathan, please stop! Don't!" She tried to jerk her arm away, but his hand was an immovable band of steel. "I'll do anything!" She began babbling in desperation. Oh, god, anything but this! "I'll stay with you. I'll be with you. Jonathan, wait, listen to me! I'll-"

But her desperate pleading was cut short by a strangled cry as the needle pressed into her arm. Pain overwhelmed her as Jonathan's black blood burned into her veins. It felt as though flames were licking their way up through her flesh as the contaminated blood slowly inched up her arm with every beat of her heart. Her stomach twisted as she saw that her veins stood out starkly against her skin, like charcoal lines on parchment.

Through the agony, she was dimly aware of the stinging kiss of a stele on her skin. Jonathan was drawing an _iratze_ over the dark veins on her arm. When he had finished, the pain ebbed for a moment, only to return as his tainted blood crept further up her arm. He touched the stele to her skin once again, repeating the pattern higher up on her arm.

The pain fluctuated in an undulating tide as he continually traced _iratzes_ into her skin, healing her seared flesh just enough to keep her alive as the demon blood burned its way through her body.

Her screams, wild and incoherent at first, began to coalesce into one name.

"JACE!" She unwittingly cried out his name over and over, desperate for him.

Rather than being enraged, Jonathan only smiled as he bent down to draw an _iratze_ on the curve of her shoulder.

"Yes, let him come now," he whispered. "Let him see your true nature. Let him see that you belong to me. Then you will help me kill him."

**That's it for now. I hope you're not so grossed out that you give up on the story! Review, please!**


	7. Update

Oh my gosh, I've just randomly checked my old email and found all of these follows and reviews! I am SO sorry that I haven't updated this in so long! The truth is: I started publishing erotica, and I barely have enough time to write my books as well as my PhD. Took on too much at once, I guess. I do know the ending to the story, and I do promise to try to finish it one day. But for now I have to admit that it is on hold indefinitely :(. Thank you so much for all of your support, and again, I'm so sorry about the ridiculous wait!

All the best,

Aleissa xxx


	8. Chapter 7

**FINALLY! A new chapter! I decided to take a break from erotica to finish this story! Here goes….**

XXX Jace POV XXX

"Oh my god! Jace!" A feminine voice came to him as though through a long tunnel, drifting down in an echoing spiral until her words registered in his mind. Everything was darkness, and there was a pounding in his head and a sharp pain in his chest that twinged with every breath.

"Jace!" Someone was grasping his shoulders now, shaking him hard. The pain in his chest spiked with the movement. The sharp sensation jarred him out of his stupor, and his eyes snapped open to find Isabel hovering over him.

"Shit, Izzy, that hurts," he exclaimed, lifting his hands to shove her away. His limbs here heavy, and the movement was awkward.

_What is wrong with me?_ He wondered, struggling to recall how he came to be here. Where _was_ here, anyway? Craning his head to see past Izzy's concerned face, he could see that he was in his own bedroom at the Institute, and the hardness beneath his back told him that he was lying on the floor.

Isabelle's hands were roving over his body, as though searching for something.

"Where are you hurt?" She asked, her voice tight.

Jace's brow furrowed. Hurt? Sure, his chest was a little achy, but he didn't feel as though the level of pain warranted this much concern.

"I'm fine, Izzy," he assured her, catching up her hands to still their frantic search.

"You're _fine?!_" She half-shrieked. "You're covered in blood, Jace. Your own blood. How are you _fine?_"

Jace looked down at himself to see that she was telling the truth; his white t-shirt was now a deep crimson.

_What the fuck?_

Then his eyes landed on something strange and unfamiliar to him: a rune. A rune that he had never seen before. There was only one person he knew who could create something like that.

"Clary," he said her name softly, touching his long fingers to the circular mark.

"Yes," Isabelle said, clearly understanding in the same moment. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Jace replied, puzzled. He was covered in blood, and Clary had drawn what was likely a life-saving rune on him. But if she had saved him, then where was she?

"You don't _know?_" This time Izzy did shriek. "Oh my god, Jace! She's gone! Whoever attacked her might have come back for her. Oh my god…" She ran her fingers through her long black hair in frustration, her dark eyes wide and panicked.

_Whoever attacked her…_

_Shit._

Everything that had happened slammed down on Jace, his mind going into overdrive to make up for its sluggishness. Clary, lying naked on the floor, her thighs covered in blood; Clary fighting him as she tried to escape; the sharp letter-opener driving into his chest, barely missing his heart.

He thought back on the words that she had hurled at him like daggers as she fought him desperately.

_"I know very well who you are, you bastard, and I will talk to you however I want! You think that you__own__me now, after what you did to me?"_

Did Clary think that he had been the one to attack her? He thought of how she had flinched away from him when he had first found her, how she had refused to meet his eye. Was she under some sort of enchantment?

"_I'm your sister, you sick fuck!"_

But Clary knew that wasn't right. It had been months since they had discovered that they weren't siblings.

But if she had thought she was seeing her attacker… If she thought that he was her brother…

"Jonathan," he whispered aloud, suddenly understanding, but still not quite comprehending. Jonathan was dead. He had killed the bastard himself. But somehow… "It was Jonathan."

"What do you mean, 'It was Jonathan'?" Isabelle asked. "Jonathan is dead, remember?"

"But he can't be," Jace said softly, almost to himself. "He can't have survived that." He had severed the demon's spine, for god's sake.

_Demon._

Shit. Could Jonathan have powers that they hadn't even guessed at? He did have the blood of a greater demon running through his veins, after all. Was it possible that he had survived?

"_I'm your sister," _Clary had said. And she hadn't been talking about Jace.

Jace's stomach twisted as he realized the truth of what had happened to Clary, the identity of who had violated her. His hands clenched into fists and he let out a furious growl. Shoving past Izzy, he stood quickly, refusing to allow the heaviness in his limbs hold him down any longer.

"What are you doing, Jace?" She asked. "What are you talking about?"

Jace struggled to rein in his fury just enough to organize his thoughts, tried to shove away the image of that sick fuck forcing himself on the girl he loved. His every muscle was taut with the effort of restraining himself from beating something, anything, to release some of his hatred and pain. But that wouldn't do any good; that wouldn't help Clary. So he struggled for calm.

"Jonathan did this," Jace said through clenched teeth. "I don't know how, but he survived."

"But he couldn't-" Isabelle began.

"He did!" Jace snapped. "It was him. Clary said…" He trailed off, unable to repeat the words that she had hurled at him, the accusations that he had been the one who raped her. "I just know, okay?"

Izzy stared at him for a moment, looking as though she wanted to contradict him. But she finally seemed to decide that it was best to hold her tongue.

"But where is she?" Isabelle insisted.

Jace raked a hand through his hair. "He must have her," he came to the realization even as the words came out of his mouth. His blood turned to ice as he spoke them aloud.

Isabelle pursed her lips. "Listen, Jace…"

"No, you listen!" He snarled. "I know what I'm talking about. We have to find him. Now."

She held up her hands, placating. "Let's talk to Alec, get Magnus. They can help us find her."

"God, damn it, Izzy! We don't have time to talk! We have to find her!" His voice lowered, almost a whisper as sickening images of what might be happening to her even now played through his mind. "We have to."

Isabelle folded her arms across her chest, her stance telling Jace that she was about to be stubborn and stupid. "We're going to call Magnus. He can help us track where she went."

"And where is he now?" Jace demanded.

Izzy shifted uncomfortably. "Out with Alec, trying to find whoever attacked Clary."

"_Jonathan _attacked Clary!" Jace said angrily. "Why won't you listen to me?"

"Because you're not making any sense," she snapped.

Jace had never been angrier at Izzy than he was in that moment. Fine. If she chose not to believe because of her own bullheadedness, then Jace would just have to do this on his own. He turned from her sharply, not bothering to change his bloody shirt before he headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Isabelle demanded.

"The armory," Jace said coolly, without sparing her a backwards glance. If Jonathan was in the city, then there was one sure way to find him.

Jace was going demon hunting.

XXXXX

The nearly-human shaped demon screamed as Jace twisted the seraph blade in its chest, black ichor spewing forth. He had chosen this particular demon because it had the ability to speak.

"Where is he?" Jace demanded harshly. He ripped the blade free and drove it into the demon's flesh once again, a rictus snarl on his face. "Where is Jonathan Morgenstern?"

"Here," the creature cried out. "In this city."

Jace twisted the blade again. "Where?!"

It glared up at him, but its eyes were full of pain. "Warehouses," it choked out, blood bubbling up in its throat. "By the docks."

"Be more specific," Jace growled. But he had done too much damage; the demon was folding in on itself, forced back to its own dimension.

"Fuck!" He shouted his frustration into the night. A woman passing the alleyway where he had been torturing the demon paused, looking at him quizzically. It was time to leave. Jace started to run, not caring who saw him sprinting through the streets like a madman. He would head for the docks, and he would hope to hell that he would find more vocal demons to guide him along the way.

**Okay, that was short. But there is more coming! Imminently! I'm finishing this tonight **


	9. Chapter 8

**Continuing on along…**

Hundreds of demons surrounded Jace. Oh, he had found the right place alright. Their number told him that much. Wherever Jonathan was, a horde of demons was always nearby. His twisted satisfaction at the knowledge that he was closing in on his enemy drove him on. He hacked off limbs, drove his twin swords through vulnerable necks, spewing black blood all over the ground. Some of it hit him, burning his skin where his leathers didn't cover him. But he didn't care; he didn't feel it. All he could think about was Clary, trapped in the clutches of that maniacal bastard. He had to get her free from him. Or die trying.

No. Dying wasn't an option. He _would _take her back from the demon, would get her to safety. Then he didn't care what happened to him.

He cut a path through the seething black mass, easily striking them down as his swords moved almost faster than the eye could see.

Then he heard it, the sound making his heart skip a beat: her scream. He had never heard anything as terrifying as that agonized sound. In his moment of fear, he paused. And he paid dearly for his hesitation. He barely moved quickly enough to avoid a clawed demon's slash from rending his chest wide open. As it was, its claws raked across his skin, grating across his ribcage.

He tried to compartmentalize the searing pain, and he raised his sword to run the demon through. But his arm was stopped short; something had him in its grip. He moved to slash at it with his free hand, but his other arm was caught, preventing his retaliation. His swords were being pried from his fingers, disappearing into the shadowy mass of demons as they were ripped away from him.

No. This couldn't happen. He couldn't die. Not now. Not when he could still hear Clary screaming, over and over again. He struggled against the demons holding him, desperate to get to her. But it seemed that they had to same idea. Rather than killing him, they jerked him forward, pulling him along towards the sound of Clary's terrified shrieks. He stopped fighting instantly. If they were taking him to her, then he wouldn't resist them.

Clary's screams were unrelenting, and they only grew impossibly louder as he was dragged towards her. Each one tore at Jace's heart like a twisted blade. But he had to hold it together, had to keep his wits about him if he was going to save her.

He was pulled into one of the abandoned warehouses, and he let out a bellow of rage at what he saw inside.

Clary was restrained to an old hospital bed, her body convulsing in pain as she jerked against the leather cuffs that held her down. There were two half-full medical drip bags on either side of her, each filled with something dark and reddish that Jace didn't want to contemplate. Her veins stood out starkly, black lines on her naked white flesh.

Naked. And Jonathan was bent over her, touching her, as he intently drew a series of _iratzes _into her skin.

"Get away from her!" He bellowed, white-hot rage engulfing him. He jerked against the demons who gripped him, but they held him fast.

Clary's eyes, clouded over by pain, cleared for a moment at the sound of his voice. "Jace," she said his name in a strangled whisper. Her body shuddered, wracked by a fresh wave of pain as he watched helplessly.

Jonathan looked up at him, his face twisted into a leer. "So glad you could join us, angel boy," he said mockingly. "You're a bit earlier than I expected. She's not ready yet. You'll have to wait."

Jace ignored his cryptic words, refusing to let Jonathan side-track him when every second was clearly precious if he was going to save Clary from whatever torment he was putting her through. "Let her go, you sick fuck," he ground out, jerking fruitlessly against the demons that held him.

Jonathan looked at him levelly. "No," he said simply. Then his black eyes filled with some twisted, maniacal light. "She's mine now. We belong together. Our Morgenstern blood calls to one another. But her angel blood, and her love for yours, keeps us apart." He reached down a pale hand to tenderly stroke Clary's cheek. "But not for much longer," he finished softly.

Clary looked up at the demon, her eyes pleading. "Please," she choked out through the pain. "Please. Don't-"

Her body convulsed again, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she was overwhelmed by pain.

"JACE!" His name was an agonized cry.

"Clary!" He surged forward, desperate to reach her. But the demons held him fast. "Stop!" He demanded. "Stop hurting her!" A note of desperation made his voice ragged, making it sound almost as though he was begging.

"It will stop," Jonathan said coolly, unconcerned for her suffering. "Eventually. Once the conversion is complete."

_Conversion?_ "What are you talking about?" Jace snapped to cover his terror.

His grin was twisted, his eyes filled with a sick, feverish light. "Soon, she'll have my blood. She'll be like me. Then nothing will ever be able to hurt her again." His gaze was riveted back on Jace. "And you're going to live just long enough to see it, angel boy. You are going to live to see her choose me, love me. She'll be under my power for ever; she'll be mine forever. And then I will have the great pleasure of watching her kill you." He paused, cocking his head to one side. "Although," he said, touching his fingers to the hollow at the base of her throat, "I may let you live long enough to watch me fuck her. I am so sorry that you missed it the first time." His grin widened as he traced his fingers down her sternum, drawing them under her small breast, tracing the outline of it. "She has a hot little cunt."

Jace roared in rage. "Don't you fucking touch her! I'll swear I'll kill you if you touch her again!" He twisted in the demons' grip, but long claws dug into his arms, ripping at his flesh and pinning him in place.

Jonathan seemed unfazed by his show of anger. Instead, he bent to touch a stele to Clary's skin, beginning to draw another _iratze._ "Oh, I don't think you'd like it if I stopped touching her," he said smoothly. "If I stop healing her, my blood will burn through her veins and destroy her." He looked down at her almost tenderly, gently pushing her coppery locks back from her sweat-dampened brow. "And we wouldn't want that."

Clary wasn't screaming any longer. Instead, she was letting out high, keening cries, like a wounded animal. The sound cut at Jace to the core, filling him with fear like nothing he had ever known before.

"Please," he said in a broken whisper, truly begging now. "Please, stop this. Let her go."

"No," Jonathan said simply. "I don't think-"

But he was cut off by a clamor just outside the warehouse, his voice drowned out by the sound of shrieking demons. Jace twisted around as best he could, and his heart lifted at the sight of Izzy, Alec, and Magnus fighting their way towards him.

"Alec!" He shouted. "Here!"

His best friend nodded and began making his way towards him, chopping through demons as he progressed. He was at Jace's side in the space of a minute, dispatching the demons who held him in a matter of seconds. Without Jace having to ask, Alec pulled a long sword from scabbard across his back and tossed it to him. Then he instantly pivoted, slashing at a demon behind him just before it could rake its claws across his back.

Jace turned, his eyes instantly finding Jonathan. His mind honed only on killing the bastard, he sliced away any demons that dared stand in his path as though brushing away flies. Jonathan's mouth narrowed into a grim line as he drew out Maellartach. The Soul Sword glinted darkly in the dim light of the warehouse. If he had that, then he had control of an entire demon army. He could wipe out the whole human race with that kind of power. But in that moment, Jace didn't care about the human race; all he cared about was getting to Clary. He could no longer hear her cries over the din of battle, but he didn't allow his mind to contemplate what that might mean. Instead, he advanced on Jonathan, determined to kill him properly this time.

XXX Clary POV XXX

Agony. Every cell in Clary's body was on fire, burning her from the inside out. She hadn't thought that it could get any worse, but suddenly, the scorching pain had impossibly escalated. She could no longer feel the kiss of the stele on her skin; the torment no longer ebbed and flowed as Jonathan traced _iratzes._ She didn't know what was happening around her; she couldn't hear, she couldn't see. All she knew was the pain.

But no. There was something else. Jace. Jace was here. And Jonathan was going to force her to kill him. Clary had thought that there wasn't any room inside her for anything other than the pain, but now dread flooded through her, rivaling her agony in its intensity.

Jace couldn't die. No matter what happened, Jace had to live. Determined, she forced her eyes to open to see what was happening around her.

Jace and Jonathan were locked together in deadly combat, Jace's sword clashing against Maellartach. Jonathan slipped past his guard, and Jace barely jumped back in time to avoid being split in two. As it was, the Soul Sword bit into his leathers, tearing the skin beneath.

As Clary stared at the dark light thrown off by Jonathan's blade, something odd stirred inside her, something dark and insidious. Her mind wanted to shy away from it, instinctively knowing that it was what she had been fighting so desperately; the darkness was everything that was not Clary. It was what was infecting her soul, changing her. She couldn't give in to it, she couldn't…

But as she touched that darkness, she felt a power there, a power that Clary Frey didn't possess. But it was one that Jonathan Morgenstern did. It was the Soul Sword, the sway that it held over the demon horde. She could feel the headiness of the ability to wield such control over thousands of beings, to hold power over life and death.

A mad idea came to Clary, and she grasped at it desperately. She threw herself into the darkness, feeling herself slipping away from who she was. The pain was intense, the flames searing her soul as she gave herself over to the power in Jonathan's blood.

And there is was, within her grasp: Maellertach's power. Hers for the taking.

Her new, malevolent impulses were whispering that she should summon more demons, should subjugate everyone on earth until only she ruled all.

But her eyes fell on Jace, and the small part of her that still survived struggled back into her consciousness.

_He has to live. He has to live._

Clary grasped at the power, pulling it away from Jonathan and into herself. She saw him hesitate, frowning. "What are you doing, Clarissa?" He demanded. But he paid dearly for his moment of distraction. Jace's sword snaked past his defenses, slicing at his thigh. Jonathan cried out and limped back, his face twisted into a snarl.

Clary could feel the demons now. Every one of them was a shadow that was hers to command.

_Kill Jonathan, _she whispered to them. _Kill Jonathan Morgenstern._

The demons all stilled around them, turning to stare at Clary. "Clarissa!" Jonathan shouted, a hint of fear in his voice. She could feel him grasping for the power, trying to take it back from her. But Jace was relentless in pressing his advantage. Jonathan only barely got the great sword up in time to block a blow that would have severed his head from his shoulders.

_Kill him! _She threw her newfound hatred behind the words, drawing on the power of Jonathan's blood to manipulate the demons that he held under his sway. But they weren't his any longer; they were hers now.

The mass of shadows converged on him, shoving Jace back as they went for their former master. There was a horrible, high scream. Then the strangled cry was cut off abruptly, and there was nothing but wet, tearing sounds.

When the demons finished, they turned silently back to Clary. Only, the pain was overwhelming her once again now that her task was complete. There were no longer any runes healing the damage that was being done to her body, and it was beginning to give out. She could see that the demons could sense her growing weakness, could see it in their malevolent red eyes.

They might have just destroyed their master on her orders, but they were just as eager to destroy their new mistress. Slowly, they began to advance towards her, moving one hesitant step at a time, as though fighting against a gale-force wind.

Jace threw himself against them with a shout, stepping in front of her, defending her from their onslaught.

At the sight of him, she was filled with love. She was reminded of the person who she had once been, the person who had been almost completely burned away. Gathering up all of her remaining strength, she exerted her will on the demons once more.

_Leave, _she ordered, gritting her teeth. _Leave and go back to your own dimension._ She held the command, willing them to obey.

Suddenly, the tide turned. The demons were folding in on themselves, leaving her world. It wasn't until the last shred of shadow had sunken into the floor that she let herself go.

She gave in, finally succumbing to the agony that she had been holding at bay for so long. Her body was burning, consumed by the poison in Jonathan's blood. She tried to force her eyes to stay open, to keep looking up into Jace's glorious face. But she couldn't withstand it any longer. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he winked out of existence.

**Sooooo…. Whew! Intense, huh? Final chapter, coming right up! …Tomorrow xxx**


	10. Chapter 9

**The last chapter! Hope you enjoy! Xxx**

XXX Jace POV XXX

Jace could hardly comprehend the strange, sudden turn of events. One minute, he was fighting Jonathan, surrounded by demons, and the next, the evil bastard was nothing but a red smear on the ground and the demons had disappeared.

But he didn't care about any of that right now. All he cared about was the girl lying on the bed before him, pale and fragile. Her body was trembling, but not as violently as it was before. In truth, she was wracked more by small, weak tremors, as though she didn't even have the strength to writhe in pain any longer. Her eyes were staring blankly at nothing. He watched in horror as the whites of them began turning a sick, deep crimson. Dark blood was pooling in her eyes, leaking from them to stream down her face.

"Magnus!" He yelled to the warlock, who was already running toward them. "Do something!"

His world was crumbling down around him as he watched the girl he loved expiring before his eyes, succumbing to some dark force that he couldn't fight. He clutched at her small hand. It was deathly cold, utterly still in his grip.

"Don't die on me, Cary," he said desperately, his voice ragged. "You can't die. You can't leave me."

She had saved him so many times, in so many ways, and now he could do nothing for her. He hated himself for his weakness, for his inability to fix her.

Magnus was at her side now, his hands pressed into the center of her chest. Jace growled at the sight of his hands on her naked body, but Magnus shot him a hard look.

"Fix her," Jace demanded.

Magus just stared at him, his eyes sad. "I don't think there's anything I can do. There's demonic blood in her veins. It's burning her up from the inside out. I can't remove it without killing her.

Jace grabbed his stele from his pocket and began frantically tracing _iratzes _on every inch of her body.

"It's too late for that," Magnus said softly.

"It's not too late!" Jace shouted. But he could see that the _iratzes _were having no effect; they weren't powerful enough.

_Power. A rune with healing power like no other._

He ripped off his leathers, rending open his bloody shirt beneath them.

"Alec," he said desperately, pointing to the mark that Clary had etched into his skin. Trace this rune on her chest. Just over her heart.

"What is that?" Alec asked, hesitant to draw an unfamiliar rune.

"Just do it!" Jace snapped, thrusting his stele on his friend. Alec took it, starting about the task, occasionally looking back at Jace's chest to carefully study the pattern. Then the rune was finished, and Jace held his breath as he stared down at Clary.

Suddenly, she started writing again, screaming in agony. Her body had healed enough that she was no longer at the brink of death, but the blood still burned her veins. It wasn't enough. He had to get the blood out of her if she had any hope of healing.

Drawing a dagger from his belt, he cut the plastic tube that was filled with Jonathan's tainted blood. Then he made a small incision at the crook of his own arm. He didn't even feel the pain when he shoved the hollow tube up under his skin and into his own vein. He instantly felt a tugging sensation as his own rich, crimson blood flowed out of him and into Clary. The needle in her other arm continued to draw her own blood out of her system. Only now it drew out the demonic blood, replacing it with Jace's.

"Jace, what are you-" Alec began

"Trace the rune again," he snapped over his friend's question. "This time around the needle with my blood."

Alec stared at him for a moment, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "Jace," he said weakly. "You can't. You'll die."

"I don't fucking care!" Jace roared. "Now do it!"

Alec grimaced, but he finally bent to draw the rune. Jace didn't know how long he stood there, willing his life's blood to pump into Clary. He heaved a sigh of relief when her body stilled, her screams subsiding to small whimpers. The blackness was leaving her eyes, returning them to their intense, gorgeous green.

His legs threatened to give out beneath him as he became light-headed, and he fell against the bed, gripping onto the rail for support. Alec moved toward him as though to tear the plastic tube from his arm.

"Don't you dare," Jace hissed. He blinked hard against the black spots that floated across his vision, desperate to hold on, to ensure that they didn't stop him.

But his head was spinning, his fingers were going numb. He collapsed, throwing his body over Clary's as he fell. He breathed in her beautiful scent as he drifted into darkness. She smelled like home.

XXX Clary POV XXX

Clary's entire body was aching; she felt as though her insides had been singed. Her lungs and throat burned as she drew in deep, unsteady breaths.

But it was nothing compared to the agony that she had endured. Her mind tried to shy away from the dark memories, from what Jonathan had done to her. Oh god, she was awake now. Jonathan had promised her that when that happened, she would be different; she would love him, would be a slave to his will.

She remembered her mind going dark as she gave in to the taint within her. Had she been turned? Searching her soul, she didn't feel any different. She still felt a burning hatred for Jonathan; there was no love there.

_Jace. _Jace was still in her heart.

But the last time she had seen him, two demons had held him in their grasp as Jonathan gloated that he was going to force Clary to kill him. She had pleaded with her brother, desperate for him to release Jace. In that moment, she hadn't cared what happened to her; she would do anything, become anything Jonathan wanted, if only he would spare Jace.

But she had failed. She knew that he hadn't been released, and her last clear visual memory was of the boy she loved twisting in the demons' grip as he frantically tried to reach her.

Tears leaked from her closed eyes as she realized the truth: Jace was dead. She wanted to die. But she wanted to kill Jonathan first.

Forcing back her grief so shat she could take action, she opened her eyes, bracing herself to see his twisted, gloating face.

But when she did, he wasn't there. She was staring up at a familiar ceiling, painted white with intricately carved cornices. Could she really be in the Institute? Her stomach dropped as she realized that Jonathan must have already taken it over. She had to get to him, had to destroy him before he could do any more damage.

Pushing back the pain that had held her immobile, she shoved herself into a sitting position, taking inventory of her surroundings.

Then her eyes fell on the most glorious thing she had ever seen: Jace was lying on the bed beside her. His eyes were closed, his tanned skin several shades paler that usual, but his chest rose and fell as he took deep, even breaths.

_He's alive. _She thought, relief coursing through her.

But then her stomach twisted in dread. Had Jonathan kept him alive only so that she could murder him? But no, that was wrong. She and Jace were free; they weren't bound or restrained in any way. What was going on?

She reached out to reverently push a golden lock of hair back from Jace's forehead. He stirred at her light touch, sighing contentedly.

"Jace?" She whispered his name tentatively.

His eyes snapped open. They filled with wonder as he looked up at her.

"Clary," he breathed her name like a prayer.

His hand was at the nape of her neck, pulling her toward him as he tangled his hand in her hair. He crushed his lips to hers, his tongue sensuously tracing the outline of her lips, demanding entrance. She sighed into him, opening for him. Their tongues intertwined, feverishly dancing as each of them reveled in the heat of the other's touch upon them. Jace sucked her lower lip into his mouth, biting down with almost bruising force, as though he was desperate to mark her, to consume her. Clary relished the slight pain, the sharp reminder that Jace was real, that he was alive.

His hand snaked under her shirt, finding her naked breast, running his fingers over her hardened nipple catching it between them, rolling it deftly. Clary instinctively wanted to arch into him, to beg for more of his erotic touch. But she stilled above him, her entire body going taut as images of the last time she had been touched so intimately ran through her mind in sickening succession. Jonathan ripping off her clothes, mercilessly squeezing her tender breasts, running his fingers gently around them as he taunted Jace.

Clary suddenly felt filthy, disgusting. She drew back from Jace with a shudder, unable to bear his hot touch any longer. She wasn't worthy of it. Not after what she had allowed Jonathan to do with her. He had taken something from her that she could never get back, something that she could never give to Jace now. Her virginity had been stolen, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her eyes began to sting as tears blurred her vision. And now he would come for her again, she was sure of it. He would use her body to torment Jace, destroying his mind before he chose to end his life. But Clary would live on, forced to live on as a shell of her former self as Jonathan used her as he pleased.

"Clary," Jace said her name, his voice full of concern. He reached up to cup her face in his large hand, but she flinched away from him.

"Don't," she whispered. "Please don't."

She could no longer bear his touch; it would only make it harder when Jonathan came for her.

"If he knows… If he sees…" She choked on her words. "I can't bear it, Jace."

A mad idea came to her. There was a way out, a way to avoid a lifetime of suffering. "Kill me," she begged. "Please, Jace, don't leave me with him. Don't make me…" Her words were cut off as her throat tightened, fear overwhelming her.

Jace caught her face in both hands, not allowing her to draw away from him this time. "Look at me," he ordered. "He's dead, Clary. Jonathan is dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

Clary's heart skipped a beat. "How?" She breathed, hardly daring to believe.

"Don't you remember?" Jace asked, puzzled. "You took control of Maellertach's power. You forced the demons to turn on him. They destroyed him, Clary. Completely. He won't be coming back again."

Clary wracked her brain, searching through her memories. There was a dark place in her mind that she hadn't wanted to face, hadn't wanted to contemplate. But she forced herself to remember.

She had been consumed by the pain, could feel the darkness seeping into her soul, eradicating everything that she was. Knowing that there was no other way to save Jace, she had reached out for it, embracing it. She had sacrificed what little was left of herself to kill Jonathan. Once she had surrendered to the power of his blood, she had possessed the same control over the demons that he had. And she had taken it from him, the distraction of Jace's brutal onslaught allowing her the opening she needed to steal the power form him.

She remembered the high-pitched shriek, the tearing sounds, the crunching of shattered bones. She shuddered.

_I did that. I killed my brother._

But she felt no remorse. All she felt was a sudden surge of vindictive glee, and a twisted smile broke out on her face.

Then another thought occurred to her: if the last thing that she remembered was giving in to the darkness, then why did she feel unchanged?

"But then…" She began hesitantly. "How am I alive? How am I… me?"

Jace gave her a small smile, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a brush of his thumb. "I used the rune that you left on me. And I gave you my blood," he said simply.

Clary looked down at him, once again taking in how pale he was. He also had another of the powerful healing runes marking his skin, on the crook of his arm this time. Clary shivered. How much had he given her to need that mark? He must have almost died…

"You idiot!" She said, throwing herself down onto him so that she could embrace him tightly. "You could have died!"

"Do you really think I could have lived if I lost you?" He murmured against her neck, his warm breath blowing across her skin, bringing her nerve endings to life.

But again, she stiffened, upset by her desire. She felt tainted by what Jonathan had done to her, and she couldn't allow Jace to be infected by that. She pulled away from him. He grasped her shoulders, holding her in place.

"What's wrong, Clary?" He asked softly.

"How can you…? I can't let you…" She tripped over her words. "How can you touch me? After what he did to me? I'm dirty now, Jace. I'm not the same girl you used to love." Tears began streaming down her face again. This was it: the moment she had been dreading, the moment he would tell her he didn't love her anymore. How could he?

His fingers closed around her upper arms tightly, and he shook her slightly. "Clary," his voice was hard and disapproving. "How could you ever think that? I will always love you, do you understand? Always. Nothing that could ever happen will change that."

Clary peeked up at him through her wet lashes. Could he be telling the truth? Looking down into his golden eyes, she couldn't see any hatred, any disgust. There was only love and compassion.

"I love you too, Jace," she whispered wonderingly, hardly believing that he was forgiving her. "Can you really forgive me for what I've done?" She asked tremulously, fearing his answer.

Jace's face darkened further. "What _you've _done?!" He demanded, anger bleeding into his tone. "Clary, you've done nothing wrong. Everything that happened was _his _doing." He shook her again. "Never let me hear you say that you were at fault ever again. Do you understand me?"

His fierce expression told everything she needed to know. In that moment, she realized the truth of his words. They warmed her, and the tight fist that she hadn't even realized was gripping her heart loosened.

Recognizing her acceptance, Jace pulled her down onto him before flipping her over so that his weight was pressing her down into the mattress.

"You're mine, Clary, and no one else's."

"Yes," she breathed, her heart filling with love.

His lips were on hers, kissing her in a frenzy, plundering her mouth with a ferocity that she had never known before. His hot tongue branded her as his, reinforcing his possessive words. Clary felt whole again; nothing had ever been more right that the feel of Jace against her, their bodies entwined so tightly that they were one.

Yes, she was his and he was hers. Forever.

**The End**

**So I hope you all enjoyed this story. I'm so glad to have finally finished and gotten my thoughts out on paper! (Or on the computer screen. You know what I mean). If you liked it, I would really appreciate a review! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story. Your interest means the world to me! And makes me feel like less of a sicko…**


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